


colds & courage

by Accidie



Series: the beginnings [5]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Gen, Illnesses, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot, Young Arthur Morgan, Young Dutch van der Linde, Young Hosea Matthews, dutch is a dick but it works out in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Accidie/pseuds/Accidie
Summary: Arthur gets sick. Dutch struggles with the role of nursemaid while Hosea's away.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde, Hosea Matthews & Arthur Morgan & Dutch van der Linde
Series: the beginnings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817620
Comments: 8
Kudos: 116





	colds & courage

He has seen some truly awful things, but seeing Arthur laid low by fever must be the absolutely worst things he ever had to witness. 

It hit him four days ago, started with a cough and then chest pains, quickly turning into a fever so high that even Hosea got frightened. 

Hosea had been the one looking after Arthur the whole time, finally caving into the stress today, forcing Dutch to play nursemaid while Hosea went to get some medicine from town. 

“’sea?” Arthur mumbles, and Dutch is forced to look at the boy once again. It had been easier, avoiding the boy, when Hosea was the one keeping watch. Hearing him whimper and cry whenever the fever made the pain in his head unbearable was too hard to listen too, let alone see. There had been times when he had to leave the cabin completely just to get away. 

He couldn’t do that now, though, not when Hosea had put him in charge of watching over the boy. No matter how much he wanted to bolt out, he had to stay and make sure that the boy’s condition didn’t worsen. 

Not that he knew why it mattered so much, looking at him. It wouldn’t make him get well sooner. 

“He’s not here, son,” Dutch says. Arthur’s eyes are closed, but he sees his eyelids fluttering, like he’s trying to open them but failing. “He’s out buying something for your cold.” 

“’m I gonn’ die?” 

It breaks his heart, hearing his boy so weak, and once again he has to stop himself from leaving the cabin completely. Arthur deserves better than that. 

Still, he can’t help but to feel somewhat angry at the boy for getting sick. Not only sick, but _this_ sick, so ill that even poor Hosea got spooked enough to hightail out of there. 

Perhaps he’s disappointed too. He had spent almost a full year teaching the boy to read and shoot, already having great plans for the future. _Their_ future, because Arthur had been a part of it as soon as they met him. Out of all the ideas he had for their trio, there was none in which Arthur was missing from his vision of the future. 

“Of course not, son,” he says, trying to put on a dignified facade, he would never forgive himself if he started to cry in front of the boy. He would never hear the end of it if he did. It would embarrass both of them. 

Damn Hosea, for insisting on being the one to go to the Doctors. Hosea knew how hard this would be for him. 

Hosea was the nurturing one. _He_ was the one supposed to take care of Arthur when he was like this, it was not something Dutch even thought himself capable of doing. He didn’t know what to do or say, and just being close to someone sick made him feel like he had maggots crawling all over his skin. 

“Feels like it,” the boy murmurs, furrowing his brows. Dutch is grateful for the fact that Arthur keeps his eyes closed because he isn't sure if he would be able to stay if they weren’t. “Don’ wanna die, Dutch.” 

“You are not gonna die,” Dutch snaps, immediately regretting it when Arthur flinches. 

Christ, he really was clueless when it came to this sort of thing. 

Mustering up some courage, not knowing what it really is he’s so afraid of, he moves from the chair to standing on his knees just next to the bed. 

And with even greater courage, he moves to touch Arthur. It takes all his strength not to recoil when he feels the boy’s sticky and hot forehead against his hand. 

“You’re not gonna die,” he repeats, this time much softer. Carefully he continues to stroke Arthur, feeling somewhat proud of himself over the boy’s reaction, him immediately softening, all the worried lines in his face disappearing in an instant. “Hosea will be back soon with medicine, so don’t you worry, my boy.” 

“’ worry all’ time,” Arthur says, leaning into the touch. “’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t know how to respond to that, not at all. That Arthur felt the need to apologize, even here, it made him feel sick. How much had they failed him? 

“Surely it would take more than a simple cold to kill you, right, son?” Dutch says, hoping that his nonchalant tone can be some sort of comfort to Arthur. As long as the boy believed he wasn’t worried, then the boy would believe everything to be alright himself. Worries killed _,_ and he refused to let that fester in Arthur, refused to let doubt sink its claws into him. 

“Folk die all t’time,” is Arthur’s response. “Ain’t stronger than any of ‘em.” 

“Yes, you are,” he says, glad that Arthur can’t see his scowl. The boy had always been sensitive, even a neutral expression would set him off at times. “Have some faith in yourself, will you?” 

Arthur mumbles something and then lets out a little snort which makes him think whatever Arthur said probably was a joke, most likely at Dutch’s expense. 

It’s encouraging in a way, that Arthur finds the strength to be a jester even now. Perhaps it’s just that small act of strength that makes him more comfortable in touching the boy again, this time with the wet cloth drenched in water that Hosea had left just beside Arthur’s bed. The water is lukewarm, but it still seems to soothe Arthur when he presses the cloth against his head. He makes a content, humming noise, and leans into the touch. 

“Dutch?” 

“Hm?” 

“Where’s ‘osea?” 

They were going in circles. That wasn’t good, not good at all. 

“… He’s out buying medicine.” 

“’s he sick?” 

Like a gift from above, Hosea decides to arrive just at that moment. Dutch knows he wouldn’t have lasted another second in Arthur’s company. 

“How is he?” is the first thing Hosea asks, he doesn’t even bother shaking all the snow off him, clumps of it covering his hair and coat. 

“Fine,” Arthur says from the bed. “’m feeling great.” 

“His fever has gone up,” Dutch says, his voice much more high-pitched than he anticipated. “Can- can you watch him for a moment?” 

“Dutch-,” Hosea had no right to sound so disappointed. Dutch had done his duty the whole day, watching the boy like a hawk both when he was sleeping and awake. He needed a goddamn break. 

“Please, Hosea,” Dutch says. “I need to clear my head.” 

“Alright,” Hosea says with a sigh. “But if it gets worse, I want you to be here.” 

“The boy will be fine now when you are here,” he says, already busy putting on his coat. “I trust you will take great care of him while I’m gone.” 

He pauses momentarily when reaching for his gloves, wondering if he should wash his hands first. His fingers still felt clammy. But washing his hands meant spending more time inside, more time hearing his boy in pain from the fever. 

“Dutch, promise me that you will be back soon,” Hosea says, still insistent on trying to talk with him. “I don’t want to be alone if he-” 

No, Hosea wasn’t allowed to say that word. Arthur, sure, the boy didn’t know better. He could say it. But he refused to hear it from Hosea. 

Dutch cuts him off before he has time to finish the sentence. 

“It won’t come to that, dear friend,” he reaches out to squeeze Hosea’s shoulder, perhaps say something encouraging to ease the tension in his face, but Hosea slaps his hand away. 

“Promise me, Dutch.” 

“I promise that I will be back as soon as I cleared my head,” he says, perhaps a bit too sharply judging by how Hosea frowns at him. 

“’take years to clean his head,” Arthur mutters, a very welcome interruption because now Hosea’s attention is at the boy, like it should be, rather than at him. 

He puts on his gloves and hat, and the last thing he hears before shutting the door behind him is Arthur’s weak protests against having whatever foul liquid Hosea had found at the Doctor’s poured down his throat. 

Finally out in the cold, he mounts his horse. 

The horse Arthur had found for him. 

Arthur, who might not- 

He waves that thought away quickly. He wouldn’t let Hosea and Arthur’s ideas get the better of him. The boy would be fine, he had survived much worse hardships before. They all had. 

It’s pitch black outside when he arrives in the nearest town. The saloon is fortunately open. He rents a room for the night, and after a few games of poker with the locals and a whole heap of liquor, he goes to sleep, his mind at ease for the first time in days. 

\-- 

In the morning he finally returns back to the cabin. He uses the whole ride back to muster up the courage to face Hosea, and trying to come up with some excuse for his absence during the night but deciding that the truth is better. And the truth is that he is a coward, too wrapped up into his own self-interests to stay with his son, and too scared of losing the boy that he willingly abandoned Hosea, the man he loved more than anything or anyone in the world. 

There are no excuses for that, no way for him to leave the corner he has painted himself into. 

When he sees the cabin at the end of the road, he really starts to feel terrified. If Arthur had- if the fever had taken him, there was no way Hosea ever would forgive him for leaving him like that. 

He wouldn’t forgive himself either if he had left Hosea to grieve alone. He was sure it would be the end of them. 

He stops just in front of the door, leans in and presses his ear against it, refusing to go in unprepared. 

_“You need to eat something.”_

_“I hate peaches,”_ he hears Arthur say with an uncharacteristic whine to his voice, something that would have made him irritated before, but now it only makes his face crack up into a wide smile, and he almost laughs in relief. _“Don’t we have peas or somethin’?”_

_“Why would we have peas?”_ Hosea asks. Dutch can see Hosea’s disgusted scowl clear in his mind. 

_“I like ‘em.”_

_“You can be so strange at times, you know that, boy?”_

“I always told you he was a strange kid,” Dutch says, choosing that moment to make his grand entrance. “Glad to see you up, son.” 

Arthur looks-, he doesn’t look well, but he looks better. Much better. He’s even sitting up the bed, Hosea sitting next to him with a sour look on his face, no doubt caused by Dutch’s arrival. 

“You certainly took your time,” Hosea says dryly. “Managed to clear your head at last?” 

“Nah,” Arthur says. “He still looks sketchy, don’t he, Hosea? Reckon’ he needs another walk.” 

“Do you hear him, Hosea?” Dutch says, gesturing towards Arthur. “Gets a little sick, and suddenly thinks he can act all snotty.” 

“Why don’t you listen to the boy and take a trip into town?” Hosea says, still with an unpleasant look on his face. “Buy some beans for the boy, since neither peaches nor strawberries seem to be good enough for him.” 

“Buy peas,” Arthur says, leaning back against the pillow. “And hurry, lest I fall sick again.” 

There was no point in arguing against the two of them, both insistent on ganging up on him. 

Still, he doesn’t mind being ordered around nearly as much as he usually does. 

Hosea’s still arguing with the boy about peas, and whether or not they are suitable food for humans when he leaves the cabin once again. 

He’ll make sure to stock up in full. Sweetcorn, beans, some fresh apples for the boy, and perhaps some rum for the night. No peas, though, just to appease Hosea. 

Ap- _peas_ -e. 

He will save that pun for the evening when Hosea’s in a better mood. 

**Author's Note:**

> just a quick one shot!! i hope you like it, please let me know if you did. :)  
> English isn't my first language so if something sounds weird, please let me know that too. 
> 
> And as always you can find me on comrade-enjolras.tumblr.com if you want to chat!


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